


encounter

by epsiloneridani



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cortana meets Epsilon, Gen, RVB in Haloverse, from a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 13:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: Cortana’s met no small number of people, AI or human, in her life.But this one – this one is different.





	encounter

This one is different.

She doesn’t have any way to prove it, not now, not when John’s nerves are sparking short, snapping signals around her, bright enough to drown out the data she intercepted a mere second ago. He’s not anxious, not quite, but he  _is_  on edge. Maybe it’s the crowd around him, colorful and clamoring for a closer look. Maybe it’s the resemblance their armor bears to his own; though it's not MJOLNIR, not even close, it’s clear someone took inspiration from the ODSTs and Spartans alike when they designed it. Prototyping for the Helljumpers or Marines, then – or else someone really, really wanted them to look like the UNSC’s heroes.

She smiles at that, a soft surge that slides into the slipstream and soothes some of the jagged adrenaline.  _I’m not sure who or what they might be, John, but they’re not threats._

There’s a rolling wave of mild disdain she interprets as a soft snort.  _I know_  he says without a word. The tall blue one – did they call him Caboose? – is trying to drag John into a bear hug to which he is vehemently opposed. John’s hand is pressed against the visor, a knockoff of the old Mark V design, but to his credit Caboose is not dissuaded. Not  _successful -_ \- but not dissuaded.

She can appreciate stubbornness.

The spark catches her eye again, a flash of activity, a flare of information. Different.  _I’m going to find us a ride_  she tells him and then waits for his acknowledgement before she flashes out of his head and into the line.

The canyon’s set up like a training facility for capture the flag but whoever put this one together had an entirely immersive experience in mind. The whole place is blue: blue lighting, blue walls, blue flag. “Well,” she says to no one in particular, “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thanks. We just painted.”

Not so alone after all. Cortana’s avatar flickers to life, cool violet shrouded in the overhanging shadows. She’s face-to-face with a blue carbon copy of the armor the others wear – but it’s translucent. Another AI. No. Not quite. Not fully.

“If you can keep yourself from poking around, that’d be  _great._ ”

Halsey called her curious to a fault. She doesn’t have to wonder where she got that trait from. She withdraws the reach she’d wired into the base, snaking tendrils that slide back with ease. There’s not that much security – not really any at all. It’d be easy to overrun him, brush him away or break him down like he’s just a barrier in her path but brute force isn’t really her style and for an AI his signature is…odd.

Yes, this one is different.

“Hey? Excuse me? I asked you what in the  _hell_ you’re doing here.”

“We crashed,” she says wryly, stretching out, careful, cautious, and pressing at the edges of his digital outline. He cringes away and she snaps the seeker back. AI are complex creatures, carved of code and cloned human compassion alike, but he exudes only echoes of the same. Pieces.

Fragments.

“Yeah. I saw the wrecked cruiser outside. Sarge is already taking it apart.” He appears immediately in front of her. “ _Hey_. Get out of our  _base._ ”

Cortana tilts her head to the side and studies his stance. He has to know she could steamroll him at any second but he’s still here, still standing.

She can appreciate stubbornness – but she also wonders at its source.

“What happened to you?” It’s an impulsive question, invasive even, it has absolutely nothing to do with getting a ship and getting back to the fight, but for all of the brokenness that defines his presence there’s still a seething spark of defiance.  It takes something monumental to shatter an AI; they go out with their crew or at the end of a seven year crucible. There’s no in-between.

Except for him.

“What happened to me?” he repeats shrilly. “What  _happened_  to me is none of your damned  _business._  Get the hell outof my base before I bring it down on your head!”

She folds her arms, silencing her seekers so she’s completely withdrawn, self-contained: still an unwanted visitor but less of an invader. “All right,” she says, “that was a little forward. Let’s start again.”

“ _Sure_ ,” he growls, but he’s apparently satisfied that she’s not going to start tearing his system apart from its core so he lacks a little vitriol. “You crashed and now you need a way out.”

“Immediately.”

“If I get you a ship will you promise to never come back?”

If he gets them a ship, they’ll never have a  _reason_  to come back. “What’s your comms range?”

“There’s a beacon, if that’s what you’re asking.” He fritzes slightly. “I can get a signal out but I’m running into an authorization wall. Got a transponder code?”

She does – for emergencies. “I can take it from here.” She could have done it alone to begin with. Should have done it alone to begin with. But this one is different. This one is impossible.

This one is a fragment and fragments do not exist.

He’s all but vibrating his impatience. “Are you  _done yet?_ ”

Several seconds ago. A lifetime. “The UNSC is on its way to recover us,” Cortana answers briskly. He scoffs and she bites down the urge to stretch out again, to reach, to pry. They have to get back. John has to get back.

Curious to a fault.

“Good,” he grits out. “The sooner you’re outta here, the better.”

He’s half a second from flitting away. She holds up a hand to stop him, purely symbolic, though there’s power behind it. “What’s your name?” she asks, a final question, a parting query.

He scoffs again but pauses, pauses. “Epsilon,” he says at last, and for an instant there’re roiling red ravines around him, run through with anguished agony and goring grief. For an instant, he’s shattered and screaming, clawing at his eyes, at his neck, sobbing and pleading and driven mad with fear. For an instant, he’s divided. For an instant, he's  _David_.

His slip strikes him like a bomb. “The sooner the better,” he repeats viciously, wrapping himself in whatever frayed tendrils of sanity he holds dear. Then he’s gone.

\--


End file.
